


A Little Love Story

by isisisatis



Category: Babylon 5, Babylon 5 & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 13:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12255525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isisisatis/pseuds/isisisatis
Summary: Advent’s calendar 2006, Day 4





	1. Selection

Searching, Neroon's gaze wandered through the dense maze of trees. His step became halting. Not because of the uneven ground littered with wet leaves, no, he didn't want to miss what he had been coming for.

And suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he was able to discern some movements between the ancient trunks and tangled bushes.

It was him.

Marcus.

The dark uniform had made him almost invisible among the colours of the hibernating wood.

Still, the only sound was the occasional drip of water on the ground from a slight drizzle and the occasional shift of leaves against each other. Marcus' movements didn't disturb this natural pattern in the slightest.

And suddenly - like a wild animal that had noticed the appearance of an unknown presence - Marcus had halted his actions, arms frozen in the last position, only head and eyes moving until they found the reason for the disturbance.

While he kept walking, Neroon cast an occasional glance in Marcus' direction, giving the Human a chance to either pretend they hadn't seen each other or to vanish seemingly unnoticed.

But Marcus' eyes had caught Neroon's presence in a mesh of curiosity although he had resumed his former actions of roaming through the underbrush, selecting and picking twigs from bushes.

Assured that his presence was not entirely unwelcome, Neroon in turn caught Marcus' gaze.

He received a small incline of the head in acknowledgement, which he returned politely on the outward. But inward he felt encouraged and more pleased than he had thought.

"Marcus."

"Neroon."

Their voices, when they finally met, were strangely muted by the blanket of leaves, just as the light was muted by clouds obscuring the low-travelling winter sun.

Although Neroon had been looking for Marcus, the tense atmosphere of the forest didn't encourage the instigation of conversation. Marcus didn't seem to mind the quiet but simply fell into step with him.

In continued silence they walked on the leave-hidden trail, crossed a small wooden bridge where their way was joined by a slow, clear-watered brook until their path made a slight curve. Eventually, they left water and trees behind and stepped out of the forest.

The rain had stopped and the sun had succeeded to break through the clouds in a last valiant effort of her day.

Neroon felt his face involuntarily move into a smile and he turned towards his companion. As it proved, just in time for an auspicious observation: like a mebel shaking the wetness out of the fur, Marcus seemed to shrug off the dampness of the forest and soak in the last warming sunrays; his eyes were closed and he smiled.

Neroon's heart made a jump. This expression - although it was totally different - instantly reminded him of another time, but then the same face had been distorted by pain and exhaustion. Nothing was disguising the beautiful look of peacefulness and simple joy this time.

When Marcus opened his eyes again, his gaze fell directly on Neroon. Only then did Neroon realize that he had been staring at Marcus, and that Marcus must have noticed. But instead of receiving the teasing remark of a sharp tongue and mind, he was gifted with another smile.

And a wink?


	2. Initiation

Puzzled and yet content, Neroon drew the dagger from the sheath in his boot and - as his mother had shown him decades ago - carefully made a slanting cut along the broken end of the branch that Marcus had given him. In lack of a vase, he placed the branch in a glass of water and set it on the window sill. The fragile stem of dark maroon almost disappeared against the darkness outside if it hadn’t been for the warm reflections of the candlelight on the shiny-wet bark.

It was one of the stranger gifts he had ever received. And who collected branches in winter anyway? He didn’t really know why Marcus had given him a seemingly dead piece of greenery (although he guessed the barren branch might develop leaves if it survived long enough).  

The earlier invitation to a celebration of a Human holiday among the Anla’shok had been a far greater gift. Since he knew that the Anla’shok were kind of family to Marcus, the invitation equaled an introduction to the parents. And by Marcus’ hesitant offer, the other had known of the significance, it hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision from the mostly unreserved young man.  

It placed hope in his heart where doubt still had reigned this afternoon.


	3. Reward

It was towards the end of the feast and almost all participants had left, when suddenly – finally? - he found himself alone with Marcus in front of the fire place that had been lit for the occasion.  

Some time ago, Marcus had moved down to the thick carpet, his legs crossed and his back towards Neroon. Conscious or unconscious sign of trust?

Neither of them had said a word for a while, but it felt pleasant instead of awkward.  

Neroon still sat on the couch, watching Marcus’ calm posture. The regular breathing was the only movement besides the firelight flickering shadow and light over the unusually still figure. Marcus was so close that his back almost touched Neroon’s right leg. And the tempting mass of hair was close enough to make the fingertips of the hand resting on his knee twitch involuntarily.  

But he dared not to touch. Not without explicit permission. Not yet.

Softly as not to disturb the peacefulness, Neroon asked the question he had dreaded to ask all evening.

“When will you return to Babylon 5?” How much longer will you be here?

“Just another week.” Lost in thought, Marcus had actually answered Neroon’s silent question. Coincidence?  

After a short, contemplative pause, Marcus turned slightly and spoke again. “It’s been a while since I spend such a pleasant Christmas. Even if by such unconventional means.”

Despite Marcus’ forgiveness pertaining to their first encounter, Neroon still flinched. This fight had gone so wrong from the very beginning. When their hands first had touched in a warrior’s salute, Neroon had felt the electricity running through him in recognition of a familiar, a *close* soul.  

And from then on, he hadn’t fought Marcus as an obstacle to Shakiri’s plans but only himself, searching for means to kill the man – the Human – before him, but his entire being was set against fulfilling his duty. With his words, in reality he hadn’t been taunting Marcus but himself.  

50 thousand he had killed during the war, why couldn’t he kill one more?  

Three hits; each resulting in a broken rib. Why not just one fatal blow?

Because he couldn’t. He had recognized what - or rather who - Marcus was.  

He was jolted from his brooding by another electrifying touch.

So explicitly conscious to not take it for a coincidence and yet utterly natural that Neroon couldn’t take it for anything else: in a lover’s touch Marcus’ fingertips were resting on the back of his hand.

“You haven’t been the only one with a revelation resulting from the Denn’sha. And I think you left out an important part of yours.”

“Perceptive,” Neroon remarked with a half-smile, uncertain.  

He turned his hand and Marcus’ fingers easily slid in his palm, as familiar as his Denn’bok but warmer and less unyielding. He tugged at the hand. A silent chuckle and a rustling of cloth was the response.  

Only when he felt the dip of the seat and another's warmth, he dared to raise his eyes from their hands to look at Marcus. And returned the brilliant smile with one of his own in recognition of the unvoiced and daring invitation in Marcus' eyes.

Tentatively and slowly - but by no means hesitant - he followed another, far more pleasant challenge.  

And kissed Marcus.  

# # #

When he eventually returned to his apartment in the early morning, Neroon noticed that the barren branch in its glass of water had developed delicate white blossoms.  

He recognized them as senk’ai blossoms, a symbol of spiritual beauty.

The End


End file.
